


Rabbit in the night

by evildoughnut



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon-Typical Violence, Daydreaming, F/M, Meg is fast as fuck boi, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining, Predator/Prey, Sad Ending, Size Difference, Trap daddy has a soft side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evildoughnut/pseuds/evildoughnut
Summary: The Trapper begins to feel fondness towards one of the survivors but can he allow himself to be anything other than a monster?A one shot fic trade with Queen_Cuntpunt





	Rabbit in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queen_Cuntpunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Cuntpunt/gifts).

> My half of a fic trade with Queen-Cuntpunt who wanted more Trapper/Meg love in this fandom.

The Trapper’s vicious strike barely missed but now he saw the girl bolting away at a seemingly impossible speed. He glanced at the retreating figure, his breathing heavy from the exertion of the chase and the powerful swing of his cleaver.

After all this time in the fog, the veteran killer was shrewd and calculating. He knew when to attack and when to wait. Had it been any of the other survivors, the blade would have connected. Torn into the flesh. 

Yet, he could never quite swing fast enough for that sprint burst.

Meg ran away in the dark grass like a rabbit in the night. 

The Trapper didn’t recall much of the life he led prior to the realm of the Entity. Memories of the man he used to be were locked away in some dark fog and fortified by ominous whispers, but sometimes he would get flashes. It was visions of sorts and watching her suddenly brought one forth. 

He couldn't quite recall the specific circumstance. He must have been a child, perhaps out with his father on a hunt. He remembered a hound chasing a hare in the woods. The predator crueler and larger than the small frightened animal, yet never able to catch up. Fierce jaws were snapping, wanting to taste blood, wanting to tear the meat, but only catching air. The hare slipped away. The dog returned to them disheartened. 

The Trapper didn’t go after the girl for he was cleverer than a mere beast. It would be a waste of time. She was much too fast and he had not laid out bear traps in that direction. 

Meg looked behind her. Red braids swinging off her shoulders and a smirk grazing her lips. She waved her hand teasingly and, in her infinite boldness, she even winked at him. 

There was complicit playfulness there. Had it been any other prey, he wouldn’t be feeling so indulgent. 

The little rabbit would live another day. 

…

While The Trapper labored away in his workshop between trials, when the whispers weren’t quite as prevalent, he occasionally indulged in thoughts other than butchery. 

He would be sharpening the steel teeth of his traps, but rather than fantasize about the blood they would shed, the teasing smirks of the redhead materialized in his mind's eye. 

The energetic girl would race across his thoughts despite himself.

Sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to touch her without killing intent. To have his hands on her hips, so small in his grip, and pull her to him. Press her close so she could feel his desire. Or what it would be like to dip his head down and nuzzle the crook of her neck. Take in her smell. Taste her flesh. 

He wondered what she would sound like, squealing in pleasure rather than in agony. 

The Trapper knew he shouldn’t have those musings. The Entity would feel them, surely, and It would forcibly put a stop to such nonsense. Remind him of his obligations to It. 

He would then shake the reveries out of his head. Concentrate of the task at hand and on the impending slaughter. 

The meat must be sacrificed. 

…

The Trapper objectively understood Meg was probably trying to buy her companions some time yet couldn’t help himself. He was unable to tear his eyes off her nimble figure running before him. He wasn’t even trying to catch up, not really, and it was making the chase last far too long. She looked back periodically, keeping tabs, lips upturned in that playful smirk that should be irritating but somehow was charming. 

In the thrill of the hunt, his long strides quickened and the gap between them shrank. 

The brutish man was cunning and he lifted his cleaver to swing at her, never intending for the hit to connect. He was herding her unto a carefully placed trap he knew hadn’t been disarmed. She leaped through the window with athletic grace and her shriek barely covered the sickening snap of her ankle in the rusted jaws. 

The Trapper allowed himself a small smile beneath his mask as he slowly circled the brick wall to face her, watching her struggling against the trap. His tall figure loomed over her domineeringly, as if it weren’t obvious enough that she was at his mercy. 

Suddenly, he looked over his shoulder, hearing an otherwordly hum in the distance. Evidently, her friends had found the hatch, used a black key and escaped. Was this the plan all along? 

Meg grinned at the sound. She was left behind but from the victorious look on her pretty features, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She looked up at him, defiant, waiting for death at his hands. 

The girl chuckled despite the pain. “Sorry, big guy. Guess it’s just you and me now." 

He brought his gaze back to her, surprised by the words. He had never heard her voice before; only her screams. Her other exchanges with him were silent. 

Fleeting glances and teasing smiles. 

The Trapper should be enraged by this outcome. 

Taking vengeance, he should strike her down and throw her on a hook. Watch her fruitless struggling before being claimed by the claws of the Entity. 

And yet, he wouldn't.

The Entity would be displeased with him for having allowed three of the sacrifices to escape It’s grasp. He felt it already in his core. Those insidious black appendages were pulling at his brain, chastising him. 

Why bother to sacrifice her then? 

Instead he could be here with her. Just the two of them, if only for a little bit. 

The Trapper crouched before his captured prey and, even then, his enormous frame still towered over her. His menacing presence was overwhelming but she did not recoil from his approaching hands. She guardedly watched him as he pried open the sharp jaws holding her hostage. 

The killer expected her to bolt then, as a frightened and cornered rabbit would. To run into the night and into the opened hatch far away from him. 

Instead, Meg was observing him, taking in the details of his monstrous and powerful figure. Peeking into the gaps of his cracked ivory mask to catch a glimpse of his true face. Noting the scars marring his skin and the sharp metal cruelly protruding from his body.

She was audacious, as always, in her assumption that he wouldn’t kill her this time. Or perhaps in not caring that he might. 

The girl reached up and brushed her fingers against a deep scar in his shoulder. The gesture was innocent and inquisitive but The Trapper flinched at the foreignness of a gentle touch. His large, calloused hand shot out and grabbed her wrist to yank it away from him. Her arm was so small in his grip. He could break the bones without trying. The pale skin was so soft; surely it was already bruising under his hand.

Her eyes widened a bit and her brows furrowed. She should have been more afraid but somehow she looked compassionate and it perplexed him. 

She spoke then, quietly. “Does it hurt?” 

The Trapper tilted his head a bit as he processed the question.

Yes, it hurt. 

All the time. 

The dull aching throb never stopped and it pulsated ruthlessly with the ominous whispers of the Entity. 

Pain was all he knew. Pain he felt. Pain he inflicted. 

He said nothing and released her, slowly. He allowed his rough fingers to brush down the skin of her arm and he could have sworn he felt quivers in response. 

The Trapper thought it might be shivers of apprehension but the body language of the young woman said otherwise. She looked like she was expecting something from him, and that something wasn’t the viciousness he was known for. She sat before him, openly staring with her blue eyes unclouded by fear and gingery bit her lower lip. 

He considered cradling her dirtied cheek in his too large hand. 

The Trapper wondered if he ought to kiss her. If he would horrify her, or if she would respond with that same gentle curiosity as when she touched his scars. 

Instead, he rose and turned his back to her, heading towards the mysterious humming of the hatch. He swiftly kicked it close with a heavy boot. Now she was forced to make haste leaving him and this place or she would perish. 

The Trapper walked towards the killer’s shack to wait for the trial’s inevitable end in solitude. He wanted to be far away from the doors Meg was bound to go open now. 

He didn’t want to look back in fear that he might see her and want to take her with him, somehow. That he might act upon his desire as if he were allowed to feel anything. 

This way she would return to her companions and he would be able to go back to being a monster without the lingering hope that perhaps he could be more than that with her. 

In this realm, hope was meant to be devoured and he felt he dutifully fed the Entity enough without offering It his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! It was neat writing a different characterization of the Trapper than the one from my main fics. 
> 
> On a side note, if anyone feel like doing a fic trade with me, just give me a shout.


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